


All I Want for Christmas is You

by RascalBot



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, UST, contrived, real smooth Zimmermann well done, special effects by Haus ghosts, with guest appearance by Johnson the Goalie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RascalBot/pseuds/RascalBot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Haus ghosts have left mistletoe lying around.  It causes Jack some discomfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want for Christmas is You

The yelling from the attic was not of the usual Mario Kart variety. Jack's eyes flickered open at the commotion. The shouts sounded like Ransom, interspersed with Holster's calmer tones, almost inaudible from the ground floor.  Jack sat up off the couch, his _Gender in Warfare_ reading sliding off his chest and onto the floor. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at his watch. He'd slept through most of the afternoon.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs shook the Haus as Jack folded himself into a sitting position. He couldn't imagine what had possessed him to take a nap on that couch; the number of times Shitty's balls had touched that thing was pretty obscene. Another of his senses awoke as a pleasant aroma wafted from the kitchen. It smelled like apples and cinnamon. Jack inhaled deeply. He'd become accustomed to the smell of old beer and excessive weed that had permeated the Haus in the past, but Bitty's incessant baking had given the ground floor an almost permanent scent of crisp crust and sweet filling, and Jack could not honestly say that he minded.

There were a lot of things Jack didn't mind about Bittle's constant presence. And even the things that irritated and occasionally infuriated him about the diminutive chef, he found he did not exactly mind, and if he thought about that too much he started to get a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, so he didn't make a habit of it.

Holster clumped to the bottom of the stairs as Jack stood and stretched. He craned his neck towards the kitchen, where he saw Holster jump up and stick a sprig of greenery to the top of the doorframe. "What's that?" Jack asked as Holster clumped past the kitchen and into the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch Jack had just vacated.

"Mistletoe," Holster replied with a smile, as Ransom clattered down the stairs. "One of the ghosts taped it above Rans' bed this morning."

"We do NOT think it was the ghosts," Ransom declared loudly as he slid into the room, hurling himself onto the couch next to Holster, "because GHOSTS ARE NOT REAL. There is NO SCIENTIFIC EVIDENCE OF GHOSTS."

"I dunno, Rans. You have to admit a lot of creepy shit happens in our attic, and most of it has to do with touching your butt."

"EVEN IF GHOSTS WERE REAL, WHICH THEY AREN'T, THEY SHOULDN'T BE ABLE TO TOUCH MY BUTT WITH THEIR CREEPY GHOST HANDS."

Jack left them to it. Ransom and Holster argued as they did everything else - like they shared a brain. Tuning out the sound of their casual bickering, Jack made his way towards the kitchen, where the patch of greenery dangled clumsily from a shred of duct tape on the door frame. Johnson passed him in the other direction, but stopped and sniffed before he reached the stairs. "Does it smell... _contrived_ in here?"

"What?"

The goalie shrugged. "Nothing, man. It's probably just me."

His footsteps up the stairs were drowned by Bittle's music as Jack approached the kitchen. Bittle's ipod was plugged into his speakers, playing that one Mariah Carey song that everyone played around this time of year. The pastry chef himself was bobbing his head in time, singing under his breath as he pulled a tray from the oven. Jack reached up to tug down the mistletoe, but became distracted by Bittle's baking project. "Is that a pie shaped like a hockey stick?"

Bittle spun around. "Jack! Uh, yeah, actually! I figured I'd make one since we're all almost home for the holidays and we've been working really hard and I just did my last exam yesterday and y'all are still here so I wanted to bring some team-spirited cheer..."

"How do you even have a pie tin in that shape?"

Bittle blushed a little. "I have been known to get creative with stiff foil tins and a box cutter."

"Hey, no complaints here, man." Jack actually smiled.

"But more importantly," Bittle continued, turning off the oven, "was Ransom screaming just a minute ago?"

"Yeah, he's afraid of ghosts." Jack pointed up at the mistletoe swinging sadly above him by its duct tape anchor. "I guess one of them left this above his bed."

"Aww, that's so cute!" Bittle's face broke into a delighted smile. "I just love how they dote on him.  Do you think we should leave them some pie?"

Bittle's smile was doing strange things to Jack's heartbeat.  "Uh, I'm not sure ghosts actually eat.  Or exist."

"Well, with all Ransom's mishaps, it sure doesn't seem as unlikely as it used to."  Bittle took a few steps towards Jack, sliding another smaller tray off the counter.  "I've got more mini-pies too!"

"Oh.  Um.  Good.  Shitty loves those things."

"Yeah, he ate five last time." 

Happily clutching his tray, Bittle moved towards the door, skidding a bit as his foot met a slick patch of tile worn down by years of hockey bro abuse.  Jack instinctively put a steadying hand on his elbow, a warmth spreading across his chest as his fingers met the skin of Bittle's arm.  "Careful," he managed, throat suddenly very dry.

Blessedly oblivious, Bittle flashed him another smile.  "Thanks.  Always looking out for me.  Hey, you know, I don't think we say it very often, but you're a great Captain."

Jack's hand was still on his arm.  The surrounding air felt unseasonably warm, and there was definitely something wrong with his heartbeat.  The mistletoe dangled between them like the sword of Damocles.  

All he had to do was lean in...

Jack cleared his throat.  "Well, I have class.  So.  I'm gonna go.  Do that."  He turned away, tearing the mistletoe down as he went.

Bitty stood for several moments with furrowed brow, looking confusedly at the space where Jack had been.  "But... it's Saturday."

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Podfic - All I Want for Christmas is You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1660655) by [bienenalster (pinkspider)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkspider/pseuds/bienenalster)




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